Well, reality has hit. James turned 37, and as we were celebrating, he informed me in 3 years he would be 40.
As his Mama, that was bit of a shock. I still think of him as 7. In 17 days I will be 70 years old.
It has been another one of those weeks. I have no social life, but my calendar is always full. This past week it was funerals and funeral home visits. Three services in two days. I noticed something about the women who were in attendance. The younger the females are, the higher the heels.
I am a nervous wreck! And I have to get an article in for my Hey Y’all column today. I had several other stories that I have been developing for this month’s Hey Y’all, but terror seems to be my theme of the day. I am writing to you on the morning of my book launch. With several people pushing from behind, I have written a book. Life is Hard. Soften it with Laughter.
Well, I did it!!!! I really did it. I have written a book. It is a compilation of essays. Some are based on columns I have written, but most are new material. I hope you will be interested in it and find it humorous. That was my goal, anyway.
My Daddy was in the Army and served in the European Theater. Snell’s Daddy was in the Pacific Theater. I said that one day in a conversation and a young woman asked me what kind of entertainment field they were in. I do not believe some of our educators are teaching WWII adequately. Either that, or the kids need to put up their dang phones and listen in class.
We all have them. Little things that drive us to distraction, if not to downright bonkers. On the way to Florida on “Time Snell,” James and I started listing our pet peeves.
It was a dark and stormy night on the lonely, haunted cobblestone streets of Savannah. During the Revolutionary War, many soldiers on both sides of the battle were killed. The townspeople could not bury them fast enough.
We are in deep trouble. The entire family. Samson, formerly Delilah until his dried up raisins were discovered during her hysterectomy, has a problem.
Back near the turn of the 20th century, a family owned a farm that would eventually become part of Summit Chase Country Club. The farmhouse was typical for that period of time, a wooden frame with large front and back porches. It had once been painted white with the traditional “haint”* blue porch ceiling to repel bugs and boogers, all those nasty things that go “bump” in the night.
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